Listen to the Rain
by Somnis Veritas
Summary: After 5 long and difficult years together, Bill and Tom finally did something that they should have done a while ago; let each other go. Now, heartbroken and alone- Bill thinks of the five things that drew them closer to each other- and wonder where was it that things had gone wrong. Was it love? Could they had done something different? Could they turn back time and make it better?
1. Chapter 1

Sitting alone in the small studio, the figure sat curled up against the couch, his makeup smeared and his hair a sloppy mess tucked behind his ears. In his slender hands clutched the overly large shirt that he was wearing; black and white manicured nails clutching the fabric tightly as he brought it closer to his face. One leg was drawn up to his chest, the other haphazardly propped up on the coffee table in front of him. Inside, it was cold, the space unfamiliar to him as he looked around and felt a sudden rise of sadness and regret. Memories lurked in every corner and shadow, and he honestly didn't remember how his home, his sanctuary, felt before he had left it. There was the remains of shattered glasses and various other items, left exactly where he had hurled it during a fit of heartbreak, torn magazines and broken picture frames littered the ground as he sat alone. The curtains were thrown back recklessly, the dull light of the evening clouds providing all the light he needed to see, which was enough for him to calm down and stop. Outside, it was raining, the quite rumble of the thunder and the tears that fell did little to wash away the sinking feeling of his heart, but did manage to soothe him into a more catatonic state.

Taking a deep breath, his dark maple brown eyes closed, the scent of cologne and- what was the word to describe that feeling and smell? There wasn't a word for it that Bill could even think of. It was just a unique mixture of man and, well, Tom. The smell brought back the feeling that his studio was lacking. It smelled like... home; the place where he could run to when he was scared. The smell that always was wrapped around in the strong arms that would hold him when he was feeling restless, wipe away his tears when he cried or stroke back his hair and lay beside him when he was sick. He could feel it too, the warmth of another body, holding him closely or the low tenor of his voice when he soothed the younger man, easing him to sleep. Now, it didn't so much feel that way anymore, the feeling of being where he belonged was gone, leaving behind the bitter scent of regret, the sour tang of loss and the more overpowering smell of better times. At the thought, a chocked sob escaped his lips, followed up a soft hiccup, the fourth noise that could be heard besides the hum of the air conditioner, the assault of the rain as it pelted against the window and the abrupt thunder that streaked across the sky.

What had he done to deserve this? What happened between them that created this gap? Did love leave them? Did fate decide they weren't good enough together? Bill wasn't sure of that answer, but what he did know was that it wasn't always like this, just fight after fight followed by the slam of a door and silence. He knew for sure that there was a time where they couldn't let each other go and always looked forward to each others company, a time when all they wanted to do was get to know each other, hold each other, and laugh together. Tom used to be so much fun, spontaneous, loyal, charismatic and funny. He used to be laid back and honest, but stupidly stubborn and loud. Their relationship was once so surreal, so perfect that sometimes Bill wondered when he would just wake up; yet somewhere, along the line, those moments faded into the background, leaving behind a spiraling relationship that was destined to end, no matter how hard they didn't want to let each other go, no matter how many times they begged and pleaded to start anew.

Bill turned his head slightly and looked at one of the photos he had tossed recklessly on the ground near the couch he was sitting on. After a moment, he unfurled himself and bent to pick it up, recognizing it as the first picture he had ever taken with Tom. It was a silly picture of them, snapped while they were running to the entrance of the building that Bill had lived in, using the teddy bear that the other boy had won him at the fair as an umbrella. Both of them ducked awkwardly under the huge plush animal, Tom grinning at the camera in a cheeky manner as Bill stared ahead, one hand holding the furry arm as the other held the keys as he tried to block the lenses view. Tom had printed the image out and put it into a frame as a gift from their first date, seeing as the younger raven haired boy had to throw out the prize that he had won into the trash since it was wet and starting to smell like sewer water. It was a memento of their first date and adventure- where Tom spent a whopping twenty dollars to win something that wasn't rigged, followed by having to drag and stuff the huge toy around for another hour.

Blinking, the boy ran his fingers over the image of the other man's face, running over the colored ink of his high cheekbones, the curling corners of his lips, the black cornrows that fell about his shoulders. And then, he was scowling. What had gone wrong? He was so perfect, everything about him may have not be considered the 'ideal man' for the people who were friends with the younger male, but still, in Bill's eyes, he was everything that he could possibly want. He was willing to overlook the imperfections just for him- and yet when did they start to see past then and focus on the more insignificant things?

Turning his head away from the photo, he looked out the window, the tears dried long ago, thinking back a few years. In fact, about five years ago, where something so simple, something so overlooked brought them together: the rain, of course.


	2. Chapter 2

Blinking, the dark figure pulled the scarf closer around his neck as he wrapped the jacket tighter around his thin frame. The movement, and the intention behind it, soon became useless as he spread his arms outward, the flaps immediately following suit as he caught his balance on the curb of the street and stilled. Jumping off the raised surface, he shuffled his way across to the other side, seemingly not even bothered by the rain as the pedestrians around him ran, using newspapers, umbrellas, or anything that was big enough to keep themselves dry as they looked ahead, looking for some sort of shelter as they went about on their night. Unlike some of them, who looked as if they didn't expect it to storm at this time of the night, Bill was dressed rather plainly, consisting of a leather coat, a cotton tee, dark wash jeans and combat boots. Drops of the rain fell on top of him, soaking his clothes and hair, tracing the sharpness of his features and stroking the soft skin as he twirled into a circle, watching the puddles of water around as spin into the air before scattering apart once more as they hit the ground. Around him, everyone scowled at the mess that he was creating, and yet the thin twenty-year-old didn't seem to notice their displeased reactions. The corners of his lips curled into a childish smile, as he reached his arms up to brush his slick hair back away from his face, looking at the rolling clouds above him.

It was just another night out for Bill, after a long day consisting of nothing but printed papers, of lectures and empty coffee cups, he had taken a break a few hours before dusk and left to head to the beach. Looking like he did, it was clear that he didn't intend to go in the water at all, but the scene of the sunset was nothing that he wanted to miss. It was such a lovely thing, and often, when he felt like he needed something to ease his mind off the more heavier matters that made up his life, the cafe that was planted right next to the sand and waters provided the most stunning view, never ceasing in its ability to take his breath away. However, unlike most evenings, that day the clouds came to greet him at the shores, managing to scatter most people away except him and a few others. It seemed that for once, the forecast was right and the meteorologist wasn't lying. It was going to rain. He had stayed there, just taking small sips of his warm coffee before finally looking at the time when people started to turn of the machines and cleaned up.

Standing, he pushed the chair in and departed, tossing the cup on the way out to greet the light drizzle that greeted him. With a hum, he started to wander his way back to his building, his arms stretched out at his sides as he felt little drops slide down to his fingertips before falling away.

He had always watched the rain; if he was at home he would sit on the balcony, sprawled out on the lounge chair as he closed his eyes and just listened, sometimes letting the sounds carry him into a light sleep. His mother had always told him to listen to it; it was a comforting sound, the steady beat as they hit the surface, the quiet stir of the thunder. Almost like a human's heartbeat in its own way, people can ignore it, sometimes they can't hear it, and if they tried they could find it- and yet it was there, giving something that the world needed it the most- life.

Each little drop could parch a thirst, give a plant something it lacked; and much like people's emotions, it could be fierce and angry, or gentle and comforting. Could the things that one loved, love them in return? Bill had always enjoyed nature, "treat it kindly and it would reward you kindly" his mother would tell him when they walked out into her small garden. Above them where the bigger trees loomed, small chicks could be heard, their mother arriving just to feed them, around the stones that lead the path through the little space were squirrels who would drop by and visit- when they weren't bothered they did their own things. The birds would gather courage to come closer and sing, the flowers would bloom its beautiful colors. Even when his mother passed away her son never let go of her words, fearing that if he took the things around him for granted, he would lose everything that defined her, because, in a way are they that much different? Like ants everyone has a job to fulfill, like bees people often protect things that matter to them, like a tigers on the prowl humans will sometimes chase after something that they desire- be it food or something bigger than that.

Chocolate brown eyes looked ahead, his arms dropping slack at his side as a flash of lightening lit up the night, like a single firework just before the others during the Fourth of July. After a moment, he stepped forward again and jumped when suddenly it stopped raining.

Surprised, he looked up at the black umbrella before he expectantly turned and looked at the owner of it, who was giving him a small smile- his tongue darting out to toy with an onyx lip ring. His eyes slowly trailed up to a pair of dark maple brown eyes staring right back at him with a bold expression on his face. Dazed, he took a step back and gave the stranger a closer look, eying the baggy jeans, large tees and white sneakers as they, too, stepped forward. His lips, he noted, were moving but the words had yet registered in his mind. The features that defined his face was sharp and angular, a matured male's look, and yet there was something surprisingly childish about his face, and look that amused the shorter boy and intrigued him at the same time.

He had seen the boy somewhere around campus at the community college, but Bill couldn't recall his name. Blinking, he shook his head when he noted the older boy was still talking, squinting to see through the dull contrast of the scenery to focus on the mysterious figure and, he noted, the New Era cap that slanted on top of his head.

"... You could catch a cold, standing out in the rain," he pointed out, cocking a brow at the younger boy with a tsk hanging on to the last word.

Bill shook his head and crossed his arms, watching as the other man leaned back, attempting poorly to avoid the water that had collected on his shoulder-length hair. Rolling his tongue to feel the familiar metal barbell, he smiled at the other man. "It'd be worth it," he replied resolutely, but didn't step away from under the covers, instead they both started to walk in the same direction. Though he was looking ahead at the dull colors and the dreary sky, he nodded once, as if to confirm his words, just as the other man let out a disbelieving scoff in return. "Don't give me that attitude, there are special things about the rain- if you listen, it'll tell you, whisper you its secrets," he insisted, craning his neck to look at the other figure in a stubborn manner, refusing to let him believe that he was one of those stoners who had no education and spends the day rambling about subjects that no one cared about. Granted, no one cared about the rain either, but Bill did. And it wasn't nonsense that he would regret talking about later either.

"So, what is it telling you right now?"

He didn't look back, his eyes didn't seem to be straying anywhere, staying fixed in front of them; his face was slack, almost like he wasn't even paying attention, but the curious note of his voice was something that had not gone unnoticed by Bill. After a moment, the boy followed his gaze and watched the rainfall in front of them, silent for the longest time, almost as if he wasn't going to answer, almost as if he wanted the other man to listen for himself and hear what they had to say. He couldn't go through life with people telling him things, besides, some things were personal, and some things were interpreted differently. Bill could never tell this man what the rain was telling him, it was much like looking at a work of art, sometimes, no matter how hard someone tries to see it as the artist did, they would always see it through their eyes first. Opinions would always be different, and yet it didn't make it wrong, nor did it make it more important. "It's telling you to listen to it, not just pass by and hear it; it's saying feel the rain, not just stand under it; it's telling you to notice it for what it is, not just something that happens often," he said after a long while of silence. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the man give him a rather strange look, but said nothing, almost like he had a feeling that the younger boy wasn't done- and he wasn't. "Yes, it happens every day and sometimes you get tired of it- but is that not a miracle all in its own? That you're able to live through another day and see it? That you're still living, breathing, hearing, touching the rain when it visits? It means you've lived to see another day full of the surprises that awaits you- sometimes it's a good thing, sometimes it isn't; but at least you get to experience it," he continued after a short breath. He pursed his lips before licking it quickly, shoving his hands into his coat's pockets. "Sometimes when people think miracles, they always think of magic such as making someone float in the air of pulling birds out of a hat, is it really? What are more special than being alive? Having another chance to learn, laugh, and love? Its small things like the rain, so pure and pretty; something that people overlook, things that people lose sight of- like being alive. Living isn't always just existing and breathing- it's about being with people who love you, doing the things you like and acknowledging your wrongs and rights."

The words finally stopped and the boy closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as they lapsed into another silence as Bill's building started to make its shape from the pour. He pointed at it, indicating that it was where he lived. The man nodded as the slight left and walked towards it, but he didn't say anything. And for a moment, the air seemed a little thicker than usual, and he started to wonder if he had overstepped his boundaries from a simple conversation into some sort of freak lecture. He took his hands out of his pockets and started to toy with his fingers, twisting the ring around and around before taking it off and slipping it back on. Was he too strong? He wasn't the most popular person, or the type that enjoyed a large group of friends, maybe that was why he didn't make any? Was it because he was just too different? Being gay was one thing, but did people draw the line at talking about nature's immobile thing as if they were human beings worth high regards of?

Do you know why I like the rain?"

The words cut his mind in half like a knife, wiping away what he was thinking about despite the smooth controlled tone that was used. He looked at the door handle before turning to the man who was looking at him observantly once more. It was a look similar to his own when he looked at someone else, but he never thought that he would be the one under that gaze. And he realized why it made people uncomfortable, he felt like he was being opened- pulled apart and inspected carefully before he was put back together again. This man, Bill figured, could be an artist- the way he took in details and the way he watched things was incredibly like Bill. He shook his head as he dug into the pocket of his jeans to pull out his set of keys. Just as he was about to thank him to turn away, the man slipped a piece of paper into his hand, leaning forward and bending slightly to whispering something in his ear, causing Bill to break out into a shy smile. Turning his head, he parted his lips, but the sound of shuffling clothing indicated that he was already heading off.

With a small laugh at the turn of events, he unlocked the door and went inside, taking the stairs up to the third floor and down the hall, passing three rooms before turning right. Opening the door, and stepping inside, shed his jacket and shoes at the front before padding into his living room, shivering as he turned up the heat. He then stepped out to the balcony for a moment, looking at the horizon that the small town offered him. Pulling out the piece of paper that placed earlier in his hands, he flipped it over and read the two lines on it. It may had been slightly smudged due to his moist fingertips, but it wasn't damp enough for it to be impossible to read.

Outside, it was still raining harder than before, and the dark clouds and the heavy rain gave the world a new, different look; a scene that was unlike the ones that was painted on his window during the summer. Often, the streets looked so odd it made him feel like he was Alice in Wonderland. An Alice who had just met the Not-So-Mad Hatter- his cool, low tenor of his voice ringing out the last words as Bill read over the seven digit number printed on the card.

"... It always returns." Just above the number was a name: Tom Kaulitz.

- - -

Alone in his apartment, Bill sniffled, rubbing the heel of his palm into his eyes to make that feeling go away, the feeling of wanting to cry even though there were no tears left to fall. He held on to the photograph tightly, pulling away and look at the colors and shapes once more. The thing about pictures were that sometimes they were like books; memories on every single image- sometimes they caught the emotions of the moment too- no matter old how the picture was, how worn or what colors they were, they told stories. And each photo told a story of how it was created. But even though a picture was worth a thousand words, was it the only thing?

Bill suddenly stood up and searched around the room, throwing up even more items as he looked for the items that once had giving him comfort when Tom was away. Collecting them all, he turned back to the couch and placed the items out on the table, looking at them longingly.

Scattered over the glass was mini black umbrella, a small sketchbook resting under a box of graphite pencils, a stuffed toy panda, and a silver ring. They were special presents giving to him, each with their own special meaning. He ran his fingers over them lovingly, a reminiscent mood befalling on him. There was a time that he used to sit down and always had them close by; he used to sit on the steps in front of the building and hold the umbrella, waiting for his date; he used to sit on the balcony during lonely days and just draw what he saw with the pad and pencils, sometimes in rough jerky lines to form an outline, sometimes an intricate detailed picture of what he was looking at; there were days where restless nights kept him away and he would just get out the panda and stroke the fur, hugging it tightly or watch a particularly scary movie and hold it all while cuddling close to the familiar form of big clothing and the sound of mocking laughter. What about the ring? Well, he never took it off; he always wore it no matter the weather, finding it to be something that was kept close to his heart. Somewhere, at some point he had stopped waiting in front of the porch, he stopped drawing, he stopped searching for comfort in the stuffed panda when Tom wasn't with him, and, heart-breakingly, he took the ring off and tossed it away into his jewelry box.

Could the things that we love, love us back? If they could, would they miss us once we found a replacement?


	3. Chapter 3

Bill was sprawled out on the bed. Around him were books of the sort, teaching him nine kinds of crazy information that he was already sure that he wasn't even going to be using once he found a job with substance; and wrapped around him was a thick blanket. On the laminated floor next to where he occupied the space were various bottles of medications and cans of soup, the white plastic spoons sticking out from the top to give him a critical stare.

True to Tom's words, the young male did get sick, and now he had the sniffling, snuffling I've-fallen-asleep-and-refuse-to-get-up cold. It's been about four days or so since he had seen the other male, and yet he familiar cornrowed head had yet to leave his mind and stay away.

It wasn't often that Bill had ever considered dating anyone, the only time he had gotten close was a little fling over the summer or hook-ups during various vacations out of the state. He had never thought much about getting serious, let alone seeing someone who also went to the same college with him. Why? Because there was more to his life then just school and work. Bill was a dreamer, he wanted to live. Success was pointless to him if he didn't get to enjoy doing the things he wanted to do and was too busy holed up somewhere doing the same thing until he was sixty five. While that would work for other people, it just wouldn't work for him. He wanted to move to a different small town, leave behind the memories that he had created in this one and begin new owes- start again, but as he had imagined it. He wanted a simple but well paid job; he wanted a small affordable apartment, he wanted to live his life like he wanted to. It had always been the plan, it formulated in his head during his first year as a freshmen in college, but at the moment, his father were so proud of him, so happy that he was going to college and starting off on a path to success he didn't have the heart to tell them otherwise. Ever since his mother was gone there wasn't much to the old man- and Bill hated the thought of disappointing him. He didn't have time for love, or so he had believed.

Muttering something about nothing, he rolled on to his stomach and reached for his phone under the pillow. A blank screen popped up to meet him, no notifications of calls or texts. The last of the cold had faded away when he woke up that morning, but being much to lazy he didn't feel like moving from his rather comfortable position until it was near afternoon, two in the afternoon to be precise. He sighed before sitting up again and looking around the room, seemingly mildly lost as he rolled off the bed, the books that were on top of the comforter clattering to the floor. Had he not see that coming, he wouldn't have seen a lone piece of paper flutter out from between the pages, its blank side staring up at up at him. Curious, he bent over to pick it up, already realizing what it was even before he flipped it over to read the contents.

Of course, if fate was telling him something, it couldn't have been passed to him in a more obvious matter. First the meeting, then the number, then the cold, and as soon as he rid himself of that horrid disease the other man's number just happen to show up. It was beckoning him to take some sort of action, but Bill wasn't sure if he should. Was there a time before he was allowed to call the other man without sounding too needy? Or, better yet, was there a certain amount of days he could avoid it until Tom believed that Bill wouldn't call him and assumed that he just wasn't interested? Wait, was he even interested? _Why was this suddenly so hard? _he thought, frustrated, as he lowered his bottom on the edge of the bed and sat down. The paper was still held between his manicured nails, the phone in his other hand, waiting patiently. It wasn't until that moment did he realize how inexperienced he was when it came to the dating scene; despite his dreams and wishes to have a serious, meaningful relationship (though not at the moment), he couldn't seem to find the right person- and now when he did, he wasn't sure what to make of it- how to react, or what to do for that matter.

His eyes turned to the window, the partly cloudy skies greeting him at the glass. Was it worth it? He knew that he wasn't going to be in college for that long anyways, but what if he really liked Tom? What of it then?

Shaking his head at the thought, he lifted the phone and unlocked it, dialing the printed numbers. Life was too short to think about the future, if they really did care for each other then they would find a way to work things out. That was how love worked, right? People always got their happily ever after if they really searched for it, right? And Bill had been searching. Maybe his life was starting to knit together, right before his eyes, there wasn't time to sit and watch his life pass by on the road, he had to jump on and move along with it, or else he would be left behind.

"Hallo?" The familiar ring of Tom's smooth voice reached him, laced with German ancestry. Bill smiled at the thought, finding the fact rather interesting. More than he should be, actually. He pulled the phone closer to his ears and cleared his throat, trying to keep back the nervousness as his mind wandered and lusted over the possible endless result of this particular conversation.

'"Hey… Tom? It's Bill…" he trailed off, waiting for a response. But there came none, and suddenly, he blushed, feeling mildly stupid. "I mean- we met a few days ago? It was raining and-"

"Yes, I remember you, I recognize your voice," flowed back an immediate response, filled with slight amusement at the short words. He pulled away to scowl heavily at the screen, as if the person behind it could see it too. Had he actually had time to introduce himself he wouldn't have made the fib in the first place; a thought that he looked back and kicked himself for not doing it three days ago. "It's about time you called, starting to think that you had forgotten about me," the voice on the other end joked, his tone sly, as if he figured that Bill did get sick, just as he had predicted the they had met.

"Of course not, I was preoccupied with... things," he muttered into the phone vaguely, earning his defensive tone and words a chuckle from the other side.

"Well, I hope you're no so occupied tonight, there's a fair in town and I wanted to see if you wanted to go before it's gone." The corners of his lips twitched into a smile at the response. "I'll pick you up at six, is that alright?" He hadn't even waited for a response before continuing on. It was starting to feel less like _they were making plans_, and more of _he_ was making plans for the date instead. Nevertheless, Bill agreed to it with a short 'yes' before he hung up the phone, standing up again before checking the time- this time belting out a curse before running to his closet, realizing that he was in no condition for a date and only had a few hours to get ready.

Though, naturally, he was very worried about the time, he shouldn't have been. After a quick shower, he changed into a pair of dark wash jeans, his lucky boots, and a loose, long-sleeved back tee. Thick silver rings circled several of his fingers and a few metal chains hung from his neck, his hair was simply straightened before he decided to throw on a beanie in case it was cold. Checking the time, he lined his eyes with eyeliner before checking the time (again) as he ran out of the room, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading out the door, down the stairs and to the front of the building where someone with over-sized clothing was leaning against the glass, arms crossed and looking ahead. He merely paused to catch his breath, stuff his items into his pockets before pushing open the door, looking at his date with a flustered grin and a simple 'hey'.

The other young man looked up, surprised before letting out a smile, reaching out to take Bill's hand in his own before lifting it to press against his lips. "You look beautiful," he murmured quietly, his breath ghosting over the pale skin, setting of goose bumps and a shiver as a reaction. With a chuckle, he pushed himself off the wall and led them away from the building, opting to walk since the fair was just down the street; he had kept his own car parked in the guest area parking slot.

Admittedly, the scene was rather romantic. Colorful lights flickered ahead, screams echoed as some rides dipped, flipped and spun; in the small attractions music blared through the speakers; and the smell of cotton candy and fat food of all things lingered in the air. The wind had picked up slightly and beside him, Tom pulled him closer, his arm confidently wrapped around the younger boy's waist as they explored the attractions and booths, laughing and chatting, talking about memories of attending with their friends and when they were younger, with their families. Buying several sheets of tickets, they were quick to waste them away, jumping on ride and ride with each other, then indulging on fries and small sodas in between. They both had even indulged in funnel cakes, flicking powder at each other and discreetly swiping it over each others' faces. To Bill, it was just so natural to be where he was, with Tom, just doing whatever came to mind- never thinking ahead and never worrying about what next. He didn't have to worry about how he should act, didn't seem to care what he said; it was so simple- just like how a date should be. It wasn't long before Bill linked his arms around Tom's and pressed against him lightly as they walked around, ignoring the scornful looks of others around them.

"What would you like to do now, Mister Billa?" soft lips hovered over his ear, asking the question, and Bill looked up, at the person talk to him before focusing on what was happening behind the cornrowed man's head. The Ferris wheel's blinking lights caught his attention as it spun and stopped, another couple jumping into the ride. As if noting that he was no longer being paid any attention, the other man followed his gaze before turning back to him, chuckling lightly before tugging his hand forward and walking in the direction of the ride. And about seven minutes later, they found themselves on top of the world, just listening to what was happening around him. Tom had his arm around the younger man, looking at the sky silently.

"Tell me about yourself, Bill," he request after a moment. Bill turned his head and looked at him, before shrugging.

"It would depend on what you wanted to know," he replied slowly, curiously looking at him as he leaned forward, resting their foreheads together lightly. He tilted his head upwards slightly as a response.

"Everything," he whispered softly. "I promise I'll be interested," he joked a moment later, his breath fanning the younger man's face; but he couldn't complain, there was something about Tom being nearby that made him… intoxicated, and not that bad one either, where one felt silly and out of the loop before dropping like a rock. No, it was more of the good kind; the kind where he felt like he could keep that feeling inside him forever- and that would mean there would be no rough mornings or liver damage from it. It was the good kind of sickness, the kind that brought enlightenment of the things he had been missing out for so long. And it was when that Bill started to talk about himself, watching Tom as he nodded or asked questions, that he realized that sometimes there were choices, with either consequences or rewards, worth taking. And despite the sinking feeling as the wheel moved them to the ground, Bill couldn't feel any happier than he did at the moment, nor did it waver when Tom handed him a huge stuffed animal after winning one of the games. It seemed like the hours turned into liquid, passing him by in a haze that he couldn't even remember what events had led them to Bill running off with the cotton candy as Tom chased him.

Though, admittedly, it did wane a little when it started to rain, followed by a pour, forcing the two to run home, using the ridiculous animal as an umbrella. It seems they weren't lying when they said all things come to an end.

With the laughter still on their throats, Bill reached into his pockets and pulled out his key, just as Tom took out his slim camera and aim the lenses at them both, the corners of his lips lifting into an excited smile. The younger man looked at it before letting out a quick gasp and threw up his hands recklessly, not even sure if he actually blocked his face or not.

"Smile, Bill!"

"No!"

Snap.

Reaching the building, they dumped the toy on the ground, leaving him to stand in front of his building as his date ran to his car, grabbed something and headed back, handing it to the younger man with a sheepish laugh as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Admittedly, I didn't know it was going to rain, so I left it in the car," he muttered as Bill took it into his hands, inspecting with bright eyes. "Running in the rain seems to be something you do often;" he commented as they stepped closer to each other to crowd around the gift- a new small umbrella. He leaned over and gave the shorter man a light kiss on the cheek, his arms wrapping around his waist as he pulled him closer. "Sometimes you don't have to be under the rain to know it's there, you can feel it before it comes- the cooler winds, the rolling clouds; and that feeling that you can't stand outside forever- keep it with you, okay?" he tilted the latter's chin up lightly, their lips brushing against each other. "Sometimes you just can't get out of the storm, and you need shelter; I'm sure it'll come in handy," he promised with a grin before he pressed their lips together into a controlled, slow kiss.

The kiss wasn't very passionate; it wasn't filled with lust, but a desire to get closer to one's heart and understand each other. It certainly didn't make Bill's heart jump a mile up his throat, but it did stutter before picking up again. It heightened his senses and made him more aware of what was happening more than before- the broad shoulders under the palm of his hand, the steady rainfall just a few feet from where they were standing, the sound of wet, fake fur from the teddy bear hitting the cement as it dropped on the ground lightly. There was no intense spark that flared between them, but a new feeling emerged from their molded lips. Even when they pulled away the emotion lingered. And Bill wished that it would never go away.


End file.
